


when i hear my favorite song (i know we belong)

by tambuli



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - High School Musical Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 06:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tambuli/pseuds/tambuli
Summary: Caleb Widogast doesn't have time for math-elites, singing, or whatever extra-curricular activities Nott tries to push upon him. He has one goal, and everything else is extraneous.Jester Delamar has lived all her life in the shadow of her movie star mother's fame, culminating in her having to move away from Nicodranas and to Alfield. Mama's warnings stay with her: Stay out of sight, out of the spotlight. It's for your own safety.But a chance encounter at Candleglow Inn's Open Mic Night will throw all those goals and warnings out the window.





	when i hear my favorite song (i know we belong)

Snow fell in thick, fluffy flakes across the city of Alfield, coating the asphalt streets, the leafless trees, and the stone homes all in white. It was late afternoon, and from the window of his bedroom Caleb Widogast could see shivering, snow-covered children being called in to dinner and a spot by the heater. Warm light spilled from doorways, with shadows cast by mothers; the children stamped the snow off their boots before entering the house, the door swinging closed and shutting off the light coming forth.

Caleb imagined the scolding tones of a faceless mother: “Don’t track your snow into the house, it’ll melt into slush! By the gods, you’re cold through! Come in and warm up by the fire, why children will insist on playing outside and catching their death of cold I’ll never understand—”

Mothers, and children, and—he shook his head, and re-concentrated on the textbook on his desk.

His own house’s door swung open, and with the customary tumbling-in and stomping of feet, he heard the voice of his foster mother, Veth “Nott” Brenatto. “I’m home!” she called out, raspy voice ringing throughout the house. “Where’re my boys, then?”

“Hi, Momma!” The voice of Caleb’s foster brother, Luke Brenatto, filtered through his shut bedroom door.

“Hello, my boy,” Nott greeted him. Caleb imagined Nott swinging five-year-old Luke up, and covering his face with noisy kisses. “And where’s Br—Caleb?”

“In his room,” Luke replied sulkily. “He said he had _studying_ to do.”

Knowing that was his cue, Caleb got up and opened his bedroom door. “Hey, Nott,” he greeted his foster mother.

“Hi, Caleb!” she said.

Veth Brenatto was a curiosity of a police detective; as a halfling, she was considerably shorter than most of her perps, and she had an abiding passion for flower print dresses, double braids, and jewelry made of buttons. People and criminals tended to take one look at her height and her odd getup and dismiss her, never knowing that she was the lead detective of the Alfield Police Department (APD) Detective Squad and the best shot in the APD (Caleb secretly thought the entirety of the Wildemount police force).

There was a joke in the APD that Veth Brenatto was “bre- _nott_ ” what she looked like, leading to a nickname of “Nott the Brave.”

Right now, she was still somewhat snowy, looking up at him and smiling toothily. Carefully, Caleb bent down and hugged her, squeezing her gently. In response, Nott threw her arms around him and hugged him bodily, smacking a kiss on his forehead at the end.

“Yeza not home yet?” she asked both of them.

“The Math-elites needed him for club activities,” Caleb said.

A slight frown marred Nott’s face. “You didn’t go?”

“I’m not a member of the Math-elites, Nott.”

“No, but you could be! You’ve always been so good at math, Br—Caleb!”

Caleb turned away. “ _Nein_ —no, I have no interest.”

Nott sighed, and then turned to Luke. “What about you, little man? What did you do today?”

As Luke chattered on about his day (“I saw a dog on the way home from school, Momma! It was light brown and dark brown and it had white paws like it had socks!”), Nott moved to the kitchen to start dinner. She opened a cupboard and scowled at the shelves, bare but for a lonely can of soup, then opened the refrigerator and scowled even harder at the empty racks.

“Fu— _freaking_ heck, I knew I was forgetting something on the way home from work,” she muttered, glancing at Luke to make sure he hadn’t heard. “Hey boys, you want to go out for dinner?”

Caleb felt a chill run down his spine, and was about to say he’d have the soup and Nott and Luke could go out, but Luke’s loud cheer stopped him. “Really, Momma? We can go? Caleb did you hear, Momma said we could go out for dinner, where do you want to go Caleb? Do you want to go to the Candleglow Inn? Do you, do you?”

Caught off-guard by his foster brother’s enthusiasm, Caleb turned to Nott for help. No dice—her eyes were sparkling with mischief and she had an eyebrow raised. Helpless, he returned his gaze to Luke’s pleading brown eyes.

“…Sure, Luke,” Caleb said. “We can go to the Candleglow Inn.”

Luke let out an even louder cheer.

“I’ll text Yeza,” Nott said, “he can meet us at the inn. On with your coats, boys, it’s cold out!”

Very soon, but not as soon as an overly-excited five-year-old would want it, all three were bundled up in warm coats and sliding into Nott’s car. Luke made happy _vroom vroom_ noises as Nott obligingly roared the engine, then with a loudly shouted “BANG!” they were off and speeding to Candleglow Inn.

The Candleglow Inn was located in a very, very old building, several hundred years old. The Candleglow family had run the inn during the late days of the Dwendalian Empire, and even now that the empire was no more, the Candleglow Inn and the family had remained. It was Luke’s favorite place to eat, because it was, according to him, a “very grown-up place” and “Mr. Candleglow gives me a special menu for big boys.”

The entire place was lit in warm—what else?—(artificial) candlelight, and the wooden tables were polished to a shine. As Caleb and the Brenattos slid into their customary booth, Mr. Candleglow came waddling up to hand them menus.

“Well if it isn’t Luke! I say, I barely recognized ye! I thought ye were Caleb for a moment!” he said, ruffling Luke’s shaggy brown hair. Luke squealed in delight, batting at the wrinkly old hands. “You’re lookin’ a little peaky there, Veth. Need a little something?”

“I would! ...But I’m driving,” Nott sighed.

“Caleb not old enough to drive yet?”

Caleb managed a wan smile. “Unfortunately, Mr. Candleglow, I do not know how.”

“Shame there, shame, Caleb. Well, Veth, you come on by a little after work if you need a pick me up, y’hear? Y’need a little more time with the menus or y’ready to order?”

With the air of a regular, Luke asked Mr. Candleglow what the soup or stew of the day was, and was told it was his favorite beef stew. Delighted, that was what Luke ordered, along with crusty bread, milk, and deep-fried mozzarella sticks to share. Nott and Caleb had the same, as well as a non-alcoholic beer for Nott (Caleb noticed she stared longingly at the bar menu before picking her beverage) and a quietly-ordered liverwurst sandwich on the side for Caleb. They also got a portion of beef stew for takeaway, for Yeza had texted that he wouldn’t be home till late; math-elites meeting had run a little long.

Mr. Candleglow ducked and wove around the rapidly filling tables with the ease of a much younger man, carrying their orders. As he set the plates down, he said, “Oh yes, by the way, if you’re interested, my daughter is running a little tavern sing-along night tonight! She thought the old place needed a little livening up, and a good old tavern song is the way to do that, eh?”

“Momma sings!” Luke volunteered, at peak decibel of course. Nott shushed him: “Inside voice, my boy.” In a lower tone he said, “Momma sings! Momma can join your sing-long!”

“That’s not the best idea,” Nott said. “I’m not a good singer.”

Luke began to hotly defend his mother’s honor, Nott smiling but demurring, and Mr. Candleglow watched on with a grin on his sagging brown face.

“Caleb, hey Caleb, didn’t you use to sing?” Luke asked suddenly. “I remember you singing when I was very little!”

“Aren’t you little now, Luke?” Caleb asked, to cover the fear that shot through his spine.

“Nuh-uh! I’m big now! Mr. Candleglow said so!”

“A big boy indeed,” Mr. Candleglow contributed.

“All right, all right,” Caleb said. “ _Ja_ , I used to sing. But not so much anymore, I am afraid I am not very good.”

“You’re selling yourself short, Caleb,” Nott said. “You’re very good! You’re very good at a lot of things!”

Caleb managed a smile at Nott. It was nice, he thought, to be so wholeheartedly supported by someone. It was just that Nott didn’t understand—math-elites, and singing, and all those other things he used to be good at were extraneous now.

His mother used to accuse him of tunnel-vision, of hyper-fixation. “My _liebling_ , pull back a little, look at all the greater things,” she used to say. “You will miss many if you choose only one to focus on.”

But _Mutter_ was not here anymore, and he had chosen his goal. Everything else was unnecessary.

Luke extracted a promise from his mother that they would stay for the tavern sing-a-long, and that maybe, _maybe, Luke!_ she would get up on stage and sing a little song. Caleb stayed far, far away from that discussion, shoveling in his stew and liverwurst sandwich and wondering if he could convince Nott to let him walk home.

Probably not, and he didn’t really fancy the thought of walking home in the snow either.

Just as Luke was mopping up the last of his stew with his bread, and earning a scolding from Nott as he did so, Nott’s phone rang. “Brenatto speaking. …What? I just got off, Feelid! I’m having dinner with my kids!” She scowled. “Fine. Fine. I’ll be there in twenty. _Twenty_ , I have to drive my kids home!”

She turned to Caleb and Luke, apology in her eyes—Luke’s face was already screwed up, readying himself for a tantrum.

“Luke, Caleb, I’m sorry—”

“But _Momma you promised you would sing!_ ”

“Luke, I’m sorry, but Momma has to work,” Nott said, smoothing her son’s shaggy hair. “Some other time, I promise. When’s the next sing-along, Mr. Candleglow?”

Mr. Candleglow looked apologetic as he said, “I don’t know, Veth. That’s really up to Maria. If a lot of people participate, I’m assumin’ it’ll be a regular thing, but right now I can’t rightly tell ya.”

Upon hearing this, Luke’s wails doubled in volume, and the other patrons of Candleglow Inn began to turn and stare judgmentally. _Look away,_ Caleb wanted to say, _he’s a good boy usually, and Nott is a good mother! He’s just five, five-year-olds throw tantrums and that doesn’t mean they’re not good or their parents aren’t good!_

“I’ll stay with him, Nott.”

It took him a moment to recognize his own voice.

“What?”

“I’ll stay with him,” Caleb repeated. “You can go to the PD, and we’ll stay a bit for the sing-along, and then maybe can Yeza can pick us up when he gets out from math-elites?”

Nott’s eyes, which had been crinkling in worry at the corners, smoothed out. “Really, Caleb?”

Luke, whose mouth was still open, cut off his wail. “But Momma,” he cried in a lower tone, “I wanted to hear _you_ sing.”

“I’ll sing for you at bedtime tomorrow night, if not tonight,” Nott invented wildly. Her wide eyes caught Caleb’s.

Again Caleb’s mouth moved without permission: “And I’ll sing something for you too later, Luke.”

Luke’s eyes, identical to Nott’s, widened. “Really? You _promise_ , Caleb?”

“… _Ja. Ja,_ I promise, little man.”

Luke cheered, completely over his tantrum. Nott mopped up Luke’s face, gave a quick hug to both boys, and rushed off in a flurry, promising to text Yeza to pick them up as soon as he got out from math-elites.

Caleb and Luke settled back down at their table, and Luke started in on the mozzarella sticks. Caleb watched the little boy for a while; it wasn’t an awkward silence, Caleb had known Luke since he was born, and anyway Luke never could let silence just be silence. Soon Caleb was being regaled with all sorts of stories about kindergarten, and Davy who kept getting chased around the playground, and Ramona who got sup-sen-ded for pulling Susan’s hair. Caleb sat and let Luke’s soothing chatter wash over him, closing his eyes and saying “Mhmm?” “Really?” “That’s amazing!” “Yes, I remember Ramona, did she ever come back?” at appropriate times.

Far too soon Maria Candleglow was getting up on the little stage at the front of the dining area. Pretty, blonde Maria Candleglow had taken up hospitality and business management in college, preparing to take over the family business—this, Mr. Candleglow proudly relayed to Caleb and Luke, as he leaned heavily on the wall next to their booth. Luke had offered his seat to Mr. Candleglow, but the old man had waved him off, saying the “best view of his girl” was from there.

“Welcome, welcome, to the first Candleglow Sing-along! Better name pending,” Maria trilled, laughing prettily as the patrons clapped. “It’s a plenty good name, Maria!” someone called out, and Maria acknowledged them with a smile. “What’s the Candlelight Sing-along? Pretty simple really—for a little bit a night, or however often you guys will want, anyone who wants to sing can come up and sing a little, like an open mic night!...It is, actually, an open mic night. All right, let’s call it that: the Candleglow Open Mic Night. Let me start over.

“Welcome, welcome, to the first Candleglow Open Mic Night!” Maria paused to let the laughter wash over her. “What’s the open mic night? Well, anyone who wants can come up and sing a little, or recite a poem, or what-have-you. We’ve set up a repository of instrumental versions of popular—and not-so-popular songs, as well as some lyrics if you haven’t memorized the song you want to sing—but if you haven’t memorized the song, why do you want to sing it?—and you can pick the song you want and sing away! Who knows,” and her voice dropped invitingly, “there might be a down-on-his-luck record producer sitting here, drowning his sorrows, only to be revitalized by your amazing song!”

More laughter. “Anyone want to come up for the first hit? Anyone?”

Of course no one wanted to go first, so Maria cheerfully said she’d have a go, and sang a surprisingly sweet version of The Cranberries’ _Linger._ Then she got her father up for a jolly, slightly off-key but very enthusiastic rendition of Eric Clapton’s _Wonderful Tonight_ , “dedicated to my lovely daughter of course!” After that, people began thawing out, and soon there were quite a few people scribbling their names on the list and clapping along to the songs.

Luke’s eyes were wide and delighted as he listened to everyone singing. As one girl rocked out to Taylor Swift’s _I Knew You Were Trouble,_ he tugged at Caleb’s arm and said, “What are you going to sing, Caleb? What, what?”

Caleb made a show of biting his lip. “What do you think, Luke? What do you want?”

“I don’t know! What do _you_ want?”

“Tell you what,” he said. “You go borrow the song book from Maria, and bring it over, and pick a song for me.”

Off went Luke to cheerfully do his bidding, and Caleb’s cheap flip phone beeped. It was Yeza, informing him he’d be there in about ten to fifteen minutes. With luck, Caleb thought, he’d be able to wriggle out of singing in front of an audience.

 

***

 

Meanwhile, in an upstairs room of the Candleglow Inn, Jester Delamar was about to vibrate out of her skin.

(She had read that phrase somewhere, and thought it very accurate for moments when she was so excited she couldn’t hold it in!)

“Mama, please,” Jester pleaded to her mother, who was sitting at the vanity and brushing out her deep red hair. “I can hear them from here, there’s such a lot of people! They won’t even notice me, Mama _please_.”

“Jester, my darling, Blude isn’t here to keep you safe,” Marion Lavorre said. Mother and daughter tieflings were juxtaposed in the vanity’s mirror: Jester with her blue skin and deep blue hair, horns curling around a pleading face turned to Marion; Mama with her red hues, carefully untangling her curls and coming around her gold-tipped horns. “We don’t know Alfield yet—”

“Mama, I’m going to go to school here for the next two years! What better time to start knowing Alfield than now? Also also isn’t Mr. Candleglow your friend?”

“Thaddeus is a good man,” Mama acknowledged. “Will you promise, _promise_ , Jester, to stay out of sight? Just _watch_ , Jester.”

“I promise, Mama!”

“Then you may go.”

Jester smiled so big it hurt her face. Off she ran to her dress suitcase, tossing aside dress after dress until she came upon a lovely, white affair with a knee-length full skirt, an actual lace petticoat and a pink rose pattern edging the hem. She wriggled into it excitedly, ignoring her mother’s questioning, “Jester, why are you changing clothes?”

“Ma _ma_ , if I’m going out in public I have to be presentable!”

“Well yes, darling, but isn’t that a little much?”

Jester ignored her, twirling about to check the swishiness. Yes, she decided, this was a good dress. The perfect amount of swish. She’d bought it on impulse in Nicodranas, before mean old Director Sharp got, well, _mean_ , and she’d always wanted a reason to wear it! Now she did.

She picked out some pretty ballet flats from her shoe suitcase and was about to bolt out of the room, when Mama cleared her throat.

“Yes, Mama?”

Mama looked pointedly at the mess of dresses she’d left on the bed.

“Oh _Mama_ , can’t I do that later? Please?”

“No, Jester. Now. Otherwise you’ll end up sleeping on your dresses and wrinkling all of them.”

Jester sighed heavily and dramatically, the way she’d seen Mama sigh heavily and dramatically on camera. She would have thrown herself on the bed in woe, but Mama was right, that _would_ wrinkle her dresses. She carefully folded them back up instead of stuffing them back in the suitcase like she wanted—Mama was still watching—then closed the suitcase slowly and properly, locks going _click click click._

She turned imploring eyes on her mother. Mama laughed.

“All right, now you may go.”

Jester nearly bolted out the door and down the stairs.

Downstairs the Candleglow Inn was even prettier than she’d seen earlier! She and Mama had rushed through the dining area earlier, hoping none of the paparazzi had seen them, and went straight to their suite and bolted the doors. Also it had been day then. Now it was early evening, and all the lights were warm and, well, candlelit. _Probably_ because of the name, _probably._ The candles were artificial, which _boo_ , but Jester guessed it was for safety reasons, she _guessed._

The shiny wood tables were full of patrons, which were mostly halflings and humans, though she saw a few half-elves too. No other tieflings, which kind of made her want to shrink in a corner, maybe? But then she thought of Mama, and how she strode through crowds even though she _hated_ crowds, and she pulled herself up.

There wasn’t an empty table where she could sit and just watch everybody. She looked and looked, but she couldn’t find one. She stood there by the stairs in her pretty dress, craning her neck, but all the tables were full. She felt a pout incoming, and deliberately stopped it.

Think. What’s the logical thing to do? Just as she was deliberating going up to someone and asking to share their table (was that disobeying Mama? Mama hadn’t _specifically_ said not to talk to anyone, and it was only to share a table), when she heard a familiar voice.

“Jesenia! Jesenia!”

It was Mr. Candleglow, and he was waving her down. She quickly picked her way through the tables and made her way to him.

“Hello Mr. Candleglow!” she said as brightly as she could. “Also it’s Jester.”

“Ah, m’pologies Jester. I saw you lookin’ a little lost there. Y’alright?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Candleglow! Only there’s no more seats and I wanted to watch the singing.”

“Just watch?” Mr. Candleglow’s indignation seemed to make him a size bigger. “Ruby’s daughter just watching singing? Why I remember you as a little girl, dancing around with her little ruby-studded mic! I said to her, ‘Ruby, your little girl’s going to outshine you someday, I promise you that.’ My dear, you should be up on that stage!”

“Oh, Mr. Candleglow,” Jester said, touched. “That’s very nice of you really, but Mama said I was to stay out of sight. I’m _pree_ -tty sure being up on stage doesn’t count as staying out of sight.”

Mr. Candleglow noticed she was still standing there, hands folded behind her back. “Sit down, Jester, sit down! Caleb m’boy you don’t mind, do you?”

Jester cast her gaze across the other person sitting at the booth.

It was a boy about her age, a human with red hair brighter than Mama’s. Jester’s mind very quickly thought _which hair is nicer_ and though she was undyingly loyal to Mama, Jester had to admit that the red-gold color of the boy’s hair was…prettier. It caught the candlelight in interesting lights and shadows. Of course, Jester reassured herself, Mama’s hair was probably softer. Mama used the best and the most expensive conditioners, and this boy probably didn’t. I _mean_ look at his coat! It was very big, too big for him, and kind of shabby and also a dull brown color and had lots of pockets and patches. Also it reached down to like, his _ankles,_ didn’t that make it hard to walk? Jester thought of her own array of white and pink coats in her winter wear suitcase upstairs, and sniffed mentally.

 _Probably_ the boy was poor. Not everyone was rich like Mama and Jester. It was okay. Jester instantly forgave him for his coat and was about to chirp out, “Hello!” when the boy looked up at her.

Jester’s mind was very fast and she could think many things at once, one of which was _Oh he’s got a smudge of something on his cheek_ and another being _He should maybe probably shave_ and yet another being _His eyes are the same color as the sea off Nicodranas._

“…hello,” she said softly, more softly and shyly than she had wanted to say it! No! She said it again, louder, “Hello! Did you know you have a smudge of something on your cheek?”

The boy reached up to the wrong cheek and Jester immediately made to intercept with a napkin—“No, the other cheek—” she said, except the boy flinched back so violently his chair banged.

“S-sorry,” the boy said, head ducking back down, at the same time that Jester said “Sorry! Here, I’ll just—” She reached forward carefully, but the boy refused to look at her, so she dropped the napkin in front him and said, “It’s on your right cheek. No your other right! I mean it’s to _my_ right, and we’re looking at each other, well we’re not looking at each other right now, but anyway it’s on your _left_ , and you should maybe probably wipe it off. What is it anyway?”

The boy still wasn’t looking at her, but he said, “Liverwurst, probably.”

“Liverwurst? You eat _liverwurst_? I mean Mr. Candleglow your liverwurst is probably very good, the best even, but liverwurst is the _worst_ of all sandwich spreads, you know?”

At that, the boy did look up, and Jester thought maybe just maybe she saw a quirk of his thin lips? But maybe not. He didn’t look like much of a smiler, which was sad, because she thought he would have a nice smile. Some people’s smile habits showed on their face, you know, like, mean old Director Sharp didn’t look like a smiler, and no one would ever want to see his smiles _anyway_ because all of them were fake. Mama smiled a lot for her job but she was very careful about wrinkles, so technically her smile habit didn’t show on her face, but Mama had a Fake Smile and a Real Smile and the Real Smile was usually, specially, just for Jester. Everyone else got the Fake Smile, or maybe the Slightly-Real Smile for people like Mr. Candleglow, who knew Mama before she was Marion Lavorre. Anyway the boy would probably have a nice smile, if he ever smiled it, but he didn’t probably.

“I like liverwurst,” he said. And that was all he said. Jester huffed to herself, but only mentally.

Just then a small boy came barreling to the table. “Caleb, Caleb!” he shouted. “I have the book and I know what song I want you to sing!”

The boy held a clear binder stuffed full of pages, and pushed it at the other boy, the redheaded blue-eyed boy. He took it with trepidation, Jester could see that, and laid the book on the table.

“What do you want me to sing, Luke?”

 _Oh, you sing?_ Jester wanted to ask, but held her tongue.

“ _Start of Something New_!” the little boy, Luke, declared.

Jester found it _very_ difficult to hold her tongue.

 _Start of Something New_ was her Mama’s song! It was from her first film, actually well a movie musical (Mama was strict about proper names for movies and things, Jester didn’t really see why), and Mama never said, but Jester thought it was during shooting that movie that Mama met her Papa. She didn’t really have solid evidence, but it was because Mama always seemed so sad when she talked about shooting that movie. Anyway the point was that song was Jester’s Mama’s song, and she knew how it was supposed to sound, and—

“Luke, _Start of Something New_ is a duet,” the redheaded boy—Caleb?—said. “I know you and Nott think I am capable of many things, but even I am not capable of singing a duet by myself.”

Jester _held her tongue._ For the record, **_Mama_** , _Jester Delamar held her tongue **.**_

Mr. Candleglow didn’t.

“ _Start of Something New,_ eh?” he said craftily. “Aye, it’s a duet, Caleb. I don’t think you can sing it on your own.”

Caleb looked momentarily relieved, then suspicious. Luke’s face screwed up, and he opened his mouth, when Mr. Candleglow continued, “Lucky for you, Jester here is a very good singer _and_ she knows that song by heart. Don’t you, Jester?”

Jester felt like she was about to vibrate out of her skin.

“Oh, well, Mr. Candleglow,” she said a moment too late, “you know, I really shouldn’t, Mama said I should stay out of sight, I don’t think—”

She very consciously twisted her hands in front of her and leaned forward a little, letting her blue hair swing forward.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Candleglow dismissed. “What’s a song? What’s a little song? Come now, Jester, Caleb, there’s only one more song to go and I think Maria’s ready to wrap up. You can be the finale! Come on, come on now.”

Jester found herself being hustled up to Maria Candleglow, who was a very pretty girl, older than Jester. Her red lipstick was wearing off, but that just accentuated her very, very white teeth. Jester felt a little self-conscious—the lights up on stage weren’t _very_ bright, but next to Maria Candleglow she felt a little, well, like a little girl, you know? She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she still had her retainer in and also Maria was very busty. Jester maybe thought this whole singing thing wasn’t a good idea, maybe?

Then she thought of Mama, and how brave she had to be on the red carpet when Mama _hated_ crowds, and also that one time that Scarlett Johansson beat Mama out for Sexiest Woman Alive and it was all the paparazzi would talk about, and Mama had to bear it, and all the articles comparing them side-by-side, and then suddenly the warmly-lit tavern and the Real-Smiling Maria Candleglow wasn’t so scary.

She stepped up to the stage.

Then she turned and looked at Caleb, who had been right beside her. He was shaking his head and talking to Luke in a low voice, “ _Nein, nein,_ Luke, this is a little much, it was okay when I was the only one, but with someone else—”

“But Caleb, this is my favorite song!”

“ _Nein_ , little man, wasn’t _How Far I’ll Go_ your favorite song just last week?”

“No!”

Jester felt a little offended that Caleb was trying to back out of singing with her. Didn’t he know that she was a _great_ singer? Like, the best singer, the only better singer was Marion Lavorre who was also her Mama…hmm wait. Yeah, Caleb didn’t know that, and she wasn’t allowed to tell him.

Probably Caleb had stage fright. Probably Caleb didn’t have a super-famous Mama who taught him all the anti-stage fright tricks. It was okay. Jester looked at Caleb and said, “Hey Cay-leb. It’s okay if you don’t want to sing, if you’re scared. But I promise I’m a really good singer and I won’t embarrass you! I know this song _by heart_ and also there are lyrics on the screen if you haven’t memorized it.”

Caleb looked up at her—with her up on stage, she was taller—with those Nicodranas sea eyes.  Then he looked at Luke, who let out one pleading, “Please, Caleb?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, then he stepped up on stage with her.

Jester felt—not vibrate-y, but a nice little warm tingle. Her smile was probably too big, it wasn’t a _proper_ Mysterious Enigmatic smile, but she hardly cared.

“And now,” Maria said, “ _Start of Something New_ from everyone’s favorite musical, _On the Edge of Nicodranas_!”

The music started, and Jester’s smile widened. Singing this song felt like sinking into a warm bath, like Mama’s arms welcoming her home, all soft and perfumey and powdery. The words felt familiar in her mouth:

 

**_Living in my own world_ **

**_Didn’t understand_ **

**_That anything could happen_** (she waited, and thrilled all over to hear the _plink plink plink plink_ )

**_When you take a chance_ **

Then she turned to Caleb. He seemed frozen in place, his arms wrapped around himself, not looking at anything or anyone, not looking at her. His musical cue was coming, and it seemed like he was going to miss it. And you could _not_ miss a cue on an instrumental track! _Maybe_ if you were singing live, with a band backing you up, they could compensate, but not on an instrumental track!

On instinct, she touched his arm—well, the sleeve on his arm. He jerked, then turned to her. She mouthed _Your cue is coming_ , and something in his blue-blue eyes came to life and he nodded. His gaze remained locked on hers as he sang:

 

**_I never believed in_ **

**_What I couldn’t see_ **

**_I never opened my heart_** ( _oh,_ Jester harmonized softly)

**_To all the possibilities_  **

 

Her hand remained on the sleeve of his coat as they alternated lines, and they never looked away from each other. Gone was the warm-bath feeling of singing the song; Jester felt like she was being electrified. She wanted to look away from those eyes, to get away from that intensity, but she couldn’t, it was like she was magnetized, it was like she was on autopilot, singing the words to a song she’d known all her life.

She was vaguely aware that looking at each other and not at the audience was not a good performance tactic, and only really worked if they were being filmed at different angles, but that was different, this was real life, and she was sure the profile of their faces wasn’t very entertaining to the audience. Also neither of them were dancing, or even really performing, just looking at each other and swaying gently.

Still, she could not turn away.

 ** _I never knew that it could happen till it happened to me_ ,** she sang, feeling herself flush purple. He responded, **_I didn’t know it before but now it’s easy to see, oh—_**

A smile broke across the boy’s face, the boy, Caleb, the redheaded boy with the Nicodranas eyes. Jester had a moment to think _Oh, I was right, he does have a nice smile_ before she realized his body was loosening up, and his gentle sway was becoming more of a precursor to an actual dance.

Probably not a real dance with real choreography _probably,_ but Jester was a great dancer! The best dancer! She met his eyes with a laugh and let go of his coat sleeve, starting a simple choreography that worked for songs in 4/4 time signature.

Something sparked in his eyes and he began to follow along—it _was_ very simple choreography—then improvise upon the steps. **_It’s the start of something new, it feels so right to be here with you, oh_. _And now looking in your eyes, I feel in my heart_** —right step left step, while the other dancer goes left step, right step—

As the end of the song approached, Jester dared to step closer to Caleb, step-step-step-step, backing him nearly off the edge of the stage. Maria pushed him back on, and she retreated, a tilt of her head inviting him to take his turn to back her off the other side. He stood his ground, continuing the song, until the final **_the start of something new,_ _the start of something new, start of something new_** —and then all of a sudden, an impish look crossing his face, he twirled her, her skirt flaring out, and then dipped her down!

Jester lay there for a moment, her weight supported by a hand under her back and a single foot, her heart beating wildly in her ears.

Caleb’s eyes were laughing, even though his mouth was only very slightly curved. Jester beamed up at him as brightly as she could.

Silence for a moment, and then raucous applause from the audience.

Caleb jolted, and then carefully put her back on her feet. Jester waved at the audience, blew kisses, and curtsied very properly—she wanted to grab Caleb’s hand, make him take his bow also, but settled for looking at him and jerking her head, nonverbally saying _Well? Take your bow!_

Caleb, who was already off the stage, gave a puny little wave and a dip that could be a bow, _maybe_ , if one was being generous, before Luke was barreling into his legs and saying, “Caleb! Caleb! That was so good! That was so good, miss,” he said, looking at her. Jester hopped off the stage and said, “Thank you!”

“ _Danke_ , little man,” Caleb said. Jester tilted her head—he had a very faint, strange accent she couldn’t place. “Yeza!”

A halfling man, with bushy brown hair and unkempt sideburns was right behind Luke. Jester hadn’t noticed him. “Caleb!” he exclaimed, beaming widely. “That was _excellent_. Wonderful. That was very good!”

“ _Danke,_ Yeza,” Caleb said. “Well, little man, you have had your fun, and now it is time to go.” He turned.

“Wait!” Jester cried out. He couldn’t mean to _go_! He hadn’t even told her his name! Well, she knew his name but he hadn’t _told her_ , she’d just inferred. “Are you going? Now? You haven’t even told me your name, I mean I _know it_ , because Mr. Candleglow called you Caleb, but you never really told me!”

Caleb turned to her and raised one eyebrow. Jester wanted to scowl—she’d practiced really hard in the mirror to get that to work, but Caleb made it look so easy! She bet he didn’t even practice!—“If you already know my name, why do you wish me to tell you?”

“Because that’s how introductions _work_. Here, I’ll start.” She stuck her hand out. “Hi, I’m Jester. Now you say, ‘Hi, I’m Caleb.’ ”

Luke giggled.

Caleb stared at the extended blue hand, and extra-hard at the pink nail polish, then took it very gently and said, “Hello, Jester. I am Caleb.”

His head dipped for a moment and she thought he was going to kiss her hand (Kiss! Her! Hand!) but he stopped the motion and instead shook her hand instead, one-two pumps, very proper.

“It was nice to meet you, Caleb,” Jester said.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Jester.” He let go of her hand, and said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us. It is quite past Luke’s bedtime.”

Luke groaned dramatically, but Caleb had already turned to go, the halfling man—Yeza?—on his heels. Very quickly Luke said, “You sang really pretty, miss!” and then darted off to follow Caleb to the door.

Jester stood very still, watching the disappearing back of Caleb, the boy in the brown greatcoat, the boy who had Nicodranas sea eyes, the boy who had almost kissed her hand, and the only thought in her usually very fast mind was, _Oh._

**Author's Note:**

> J, I asked myself, what are the main AUs every fandom needs?
> 
> I made a list. And on the list was: High School Musical AU. 
> 
> Not high school. High School *Musical*.
> 
> And then I thought: What if HSM...but Widojest.
> 
> Thus, this monstrosity.
> 
> Also, remember the ffnet days when you couldn't post songfics anymore because something something getting sued? Ah AO3, we love ya.
> 
> For the Widojest server, the existence of which made me get off my ass and actually produce content. Happy Widojest Day! Here's to no longer being a rarepair!
> 
> PS. Internet points for anyone who can identify the sly references to other media I snuck in there.


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